Second Best | By : RiekaDeVolka Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Title: Second Best.
Pairing(s):
Alex
Armstrong/Roy Mustang, allusions to Roy Mustang/Edward Elric.
Beta: None, all mistakes my
own.
Rating: R.
Genre: Angst.
Warnings: Post anime, post movie,
loosely attached to canon.
Feedback: Very welcome, please!
Word Count: 396.
Summary: It’s hard to keep going
like this, to be second best, but an Armstrong is always humble, and Alex is an
Armstrong thorough and thorough.
Author's
Notes: Done
for my drabble requests for Christmas, for Agora, who requested this pairing (you
did it to get back at me after Seamus/Skylar, didn’t you?), as well as
sparkles. I seem to be in a bipolar mood swing tonight, from humor to angst, in
two seconds flat.
Second
Best.
He’s never been second best in his
life. Never. But now he can’t do anything about it. This is not a competition,
but if it were, he knows he can’t compare, not by the way the dark eyes linger
in the corners and the sadness echoes in each gesture when the young Elric is
mentioned. He’s not his first choice, he’s just the second, a friend who was
conveniently standing there, and who had always made it clear he would welcome
him with open arms.
There’s no similitudes between
them, in fact, Alex knows he’s as diametrically opposed to Edward as it’s
humanely possible, but he finds comfort in this, at least. That way, he knows
he’s been chosen – still second, always
second – for himself, not for a faint resemblance that would drive him insane
after a while.
His lover sleeps next to him, tired
and mourning, always mourning. Some days, Alex tries to remember a time when
Roy hadn’t been mourning, when his smug smirks were real and the touch of
affection was genuine. But those days seems so long ago, starting the night
Hughes died, and then continuing through that strange chain of situations that
slowly left his friend broken and hollow.
He wonders, some times, how it
would be the first. Was Edward allowed to remove the eye patch, or was he
shunned away too? Was Edward regarded coolly in public, or was he allowed the
freedom to touch at will, whenever he felt like it?
It’s selfish to want it, to wish so
fervently for something so mean, but
Alex is just human, despite it all, and no matter how many sparkles he has
around his head, he can see clearly: He’s just
second best.
One day, when the mourning has come
to pass and there’s real emotion behind the dark eyes again, he’s going to ask
his lover the questions he never dares to voice, wonder out loud about
what-if’s and see with pride that he’s the only
one. One day he won’t be second best, but until then, he’ll keep his temper and
his own sorrows to himself, being the unending source of patience and strength
to keep Roy going on another day.
It’s hard to keep going like this,
to be second best, but an Armstrong is always humble, and Alex is an Armstrong
thorough and thorough.
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